


Biting the Medal

by WritesOnCoffee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Competition, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Drinking, Eating Disorders, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Grand Prix Final, Rough Sex, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-08-06 05:48:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16382546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritesOnCoffee/pseuds/WritesOnCoffee
Summary: Yuri never competed against Victor before, but feels a rush of jittery anxiety hit him the first time he sees Victor skate against him. All that confidence in himself falters--and it's all Victor's fault for being so beautiful and talented. Yuri thinks of a way to punish his beautiful fiance for being just too good.  And it involves a tie he borrows from Chris...Smutty cuteness and teasing ensues





	1. Chapter 1

It's a surreal experience watching your husband, coach, and rival all-in-one perform a routine on the ice. There Victor Nikiforov moved—never still for more than a moment, always moving. His platinum hair—straight bangs covering up his one eye—bobbed in motion with every graceful swing and every sweeping gesture. 

Of course, Yuri had seen it all already. The routines, the slip-ups, the decisions made with the sole intention of wowing his audience. He saw Victor stand outside their training rink in St. Petersburg, gazing at the water, as if the sparkle of sunlight against the surface could put together the perfect routine for him.

Yuri felt bad thinking of his husband to be that way. Thinking of him as lazy took away even a fragment of his genius. Still, if he wasn't such a talented skating master, maybe he wouldn't be blowing Yuri out of the water.

It was that talent that drove Yuri to be the best.

And, ironically, what was booting Yuri away from first place.

He rested his weight against his legs, grasping either bicep in hand, feeling their firmness resist the pressure of his fingers. All the same, he felt like a bit of an ass getting angry about this. He probably looked like such a jealous, insecure jerk, with his hair slicked back and his glasses damp from the moisture in the air.

Still, he just—he felt..

“Yuri!” Victor, finished with his routine, practically bounced into Yuri's lap, which left him flustered and blushing. “I know I didn't land perfectly on that one spin, but—oh, you're blushing. Like what you see out there?” He placed a teasing finger under Yuri's jawline, and ran under his chin—

“Cut it out!” He laughed, gently slapping Victor's hand away. “I don't want everyone to think you're fraternizing with the competition.”

“Fraternizing with the competition?” Victor grinned in a way that made him look somehow confident, slick, and goofy as hell all at once. “I think we're doing a little more than just fraternizing.” 

Yuri almost let himself smile, until he glanced back, seeing the crisscrossing streaks in the ice his blades left under him. He remembered that performance and how well Victor did. “You were incredible.” Yuri tried to smile—he really did—but he couldn't muster more than a weak grimace.

For half a second, Victor's lips pursed and his eyebrows tensed. It looked as though a question danced on his tongue.

But a second later, he broke out into a huge grin as the judges announced his score.

2.3 points higher than Yuri's.

Just the short-form performance. There would be time to pull ahead in the long-form—but all the same—

Why did he want to shove him back?

Victor left to meet the press while Yuri lingered in the changing room, leaning by the lockers and other private quarters, stretching out his inner thighs. He knew better than to overextend his hips, but, right now, a small part of him felt as if he weren't stretching enough. Maybe if he stretched a little more, he might be able to bring his leg up higher, spin faster—something to pass through the barrier of inadequacy that kept him from reaching Victor.

He beat the world record last year, so why couldn't he match his own fiance's score now?

“You've gotten soft,” Yuri told himself inside his head, “Not working hard enough, content. You're not able to keep this going because you're not good enough to keep going.”

The door opened, and someone entered. Yuri didn't see who at first. He sort of kept quiet. He didn't like being interrupted—

“Oh. You're still here.”

Chris. His jawline sported a few stray hairs. Yuri could swear one of them looked silver in the luminescent light—but no, just a trick of the light. Yuri responded with a little nod and a short greeting.

“You sure you should be doing that? Victor probably wouldn't want you to stretch yourself out that hard—outside the bedroom, of course.”

Yuri smiled a little. “I guess if I hurt myself he'd have to make due somehow.” Still, something Chris said made him feel silly and come out of his tight little lunge. “Is it normal to feel a little jealous?”

Chris didn't need further clarification. “Victor always is so beautiful when he skates, isn't he? Going on the ice like that makes me feel all sorts of things.” He exhaled, a look of wistful pleasure in his eyes. Yuri might've felt jealous if he had any doubts about Victor's loyalty toward him. As it was, he just felt an urge to talk about Victor's beautiful face to someone who could share in that sense of admiration.

“He's so perfect. I mean, I've always known that, seeing him perform, but it's a different experience, knowing I have a chance at beating him now.” Yuri found himself smiling.

“And this is your first time competing against one another, yes?”

Yes. They both passed their first competitions, which meant they only had to place once more. The two of them. Then, they'd qualify for the Grand Prix. 

Still, even though, at this rate, they might just have the whole qualifying thing in the bag, something stung, knowing, of all people, Victor was the only one standing in Yuri's way. And if Victor won and maybe one other person placed above Yuri tomorrow...then what?

“You sound a little high strung. Perhaps take it easy tonight? Or...perhaps you could get a different sort of work-out in?” Chris wasn't smiling, necessarily, but his eyes gleamed.

“What sort of work-out?” Yuri asked, “I mean, Victor has a very precise training—”

“You're adorable sometimes, you know that?” Another chuckle. “What do you want to do to your fiance right now? There are more ways to compete than just on the ice, you know.”

“What're you talking abou—?” But then it made sense. And Yuri, in an instant, smirked. “Oh.”

“You and your fiance are so extra. But Victor exudes that energy every step of every day. I suspect you're the sort who bottles it all up into moments of intense extra-ness.”

Yuri shrugged. “I dunno.” 

“Pole dancing?”

Yuri bluhed a little, shrugged, then said, “I may have to ask you a favor. Do you have any ties you don't mind ruining?”

#########

Victor was out doing the social circuit for an hour or so by the time he returned to the hotel room. “I'm sorry I took so long, Yuri. These interviewers—you'd think they thought I just made a press conference about our relationship and every—oh.”

Yuri wished he could be in Victor's place now, walking into the room without warning or any clue what laid in store for him. He wished he could walk in, seeing Yuri dressed in a professional, form-fitted white button-down, tucked in to his belted slacks.

“Vitya,” Yuri cooed, brushing back his bangs from off his head, “You wouldn't mind getting on the bed, would you?”

You'd have thought Victor's clothes were bound to his body by velcro with how fast he ripped them off, soaring in an arc right to the bed. Part of Yuri felt a little tug at his pants. He looked so excited—so eager—

Shame Yuri wasn't in this for his own pleasure.

“Close your eyes.” Yuri said, crawling onto the bed. Victor's legs parted for the smaller man's entrance. Already, blood flowed to his member. It had already stiffened, but now it elongated, rising and rising—

But Victor, good boy he was, closed his eyes—

Which was when Yuri reached below the bed, and took out the tie. Running a hand up an down the inner of his strong, chistled thighs, Yuri rose forward, knees scraping the sides of Victor's ribs as he positioned his still-clothed bottom right on top of Victor's chest.

Victor wheezed a little. “A little heavy there. You haven't been cheating on your diet, have you?”

“What can I say? I have a very big appetite.” Yuri could've said normally, but instead he whispered that in Victor's ear. And, as an added bonus, took a short little bite at the edge of Victor's ear.

But Victor, despite grinning and blushing, kept his eyes shut.

Naive boy.

With one hand, Yuri snatched up Victor's wrist, and bound it to the bed's headrest. Victor opened his eyes then, with his eyebrow raised. “That's a first. You could've warned me if you were experimenting—wait, where are you going?”

Yuri rose up from the bed, and immediately undid his belt. “You can pull out of that tie whenever you want. I didn't tie it all that tight.” One jerk of the wrist drew the belt free of its loops, slapping the air with its leather edge. “Should I make it a little tighter for you? Or will you be good and stay there?”

Victor didn't seem too upset. “Oh, I'll be very good, my piggy.”

Yuri blushed at that. No. Resist. Resist the cute pet names. Just focus on being intimidating. Make him want and need until it hurt. 

And then, at the peak, let him have it.

Yuri sprang off the bed, and tossed a tissue box his way. “If you get desperate, you can relieve yourself into one of those. The tie is Chris's, and I promised I'd return it to him without any stains on it.”

Victor smirked. “If it's Chris's, I don't think either of us should worry about stains. It probably looks like a Jackson Pollock painting already.”

Part of Yuri wanted to laugh at that. Fuck. They always cracked a couple jokes while having sex, but now wasn't the time. Yuri wanted to make him suffer for—for—

Being gorgeous on the ice. As gorgeous as he had been when he first laid eyes on him as a boy. Gorgeous for the same reasons he always admired him--

It took so much restraint not to grab that boy by the face now and lock lips, filling his mouth with his tongue. It took so much damn restraint.

Yuri took a long gulp of cider. Not champagne. He wanted to keep his senses about him. As he gulped, he pealed the buttons off his collarbone, down his chest, stopping just above his navel. Enough to expose the pectoral muscles and upper abs, but not the rest of the body he sculpted training with his love every day

He reached a hand, squeezing at his chest and nipple as he buckled over the bed. On one leg, he rose the other perpendicular to the ground, straight up. Toe painted right up, like the most firm and erect of sculptures.

“Touch yourself. Now.” Yuri commanded, and Victor obeyed. “Oh. Fast. You just can't contain yourself around me, can you?” 

Yuri lifted the other leg up, now pointing both feet to the ceiling as his back rested against the covers. Victor's cock laid mere centimeters above the crown of Yuri's head. 

“I'd rather you not shower me yet. My glasses are still on, and if you get anything on them, you're cleaning. And I want you to make them perfect so I can see my score above yours tomorrow.”

“Then take your glasses off and drink up so none of it will splatter on your eyes. I know you're trying to tease me with this game, but I recognize a hungry piggy when I see one.”

So Yuri might've been licking his lips thinking about running his tongue up the course of Victor's member, but so what? 

“You better grab that tissues so you don't cum all over me.” Yuri grinned, rising his head so the hair on his head bristled against the underside of Victor's throbbing head.

“Please don't tease me, piggy.”

“Oh?” Yuri pulled himself up fast, almost springing off the bed, as he pulled the remainder of his buttons free. He let the shirt slide down off his shoulders and arms, piling at his feet on the floor. He planted one foot between Victor's legs, drew the sock down Yuri's calf and foot, and flung the sock off the bed. “I don't want you using that as a way to relieve yourself.”

“No need. I'm sure you'll lap it up yourself once you get tired of playing.” Victor laughed. “I know how you are. You're hungry.”

“Am I?”

“You are. That's why you're unbuttoning your pants right now.”

Oh. Well, that was weird. His fingers—entirely on their own—had done their work on his button and zipper, and now his pants slipped down to his hips. His rear and hips weren't narrow enough to let his pants fall as easily as his shirt. His rear filled his pants out very nicely.

Even at his lowest, Yuri could admit to himself he had quite the rear. When one discover an Instagram devoted to taking screencaps of one's rear, even someone with the worst of anxiety had to face facts.

“I'm impressed, though, you managed to stay hard and you didn't once reach for the tissues,” Yuri said as he shifted on his knees between the covers.

“Oh, sweetie, there wouldn't be a point grabbing the tissues. You threw me an empty tissue box. You think I wouldn't notice that?”

“I was hoping you'd be too distracted to notice.”

“Where did you put the tissues, babe?”

“I flushed them down the toilet—”

“Babe?”

“Okay, they're in the cabinet under the sink. I'll put them back.”

“Oh, I know you will.” Victor reached with his unbound hand for Yuri's shoulder. “But first, you've tortured me enough. Time for payback.”

“Pay—?”

Victor thrust Yuri against his cock, and Yuri, almost eager, took it.

“Remember me saying I'd only marry you if you got gold at last year's Grand Prix?” Victor asked, “Well, just think of me as that gold medal this year, and you're gonna bite that metal on the—Oh--! Piggy, get ready.”

Before Yuri could even enjoy himself, something hot and sticky sprayed into his mouth. He tasted something familiar and delicious. Something that warmed him from the face down his throat into his very heart.

The cock softened, and Yuri slid off, coughing a little as he tried to breathe. “Vitya, don't tell me to bite you when your cock is in my mouth. That's—look, I know I'm being rough with you tonight, but I'm not gonna hurt you like that.”

“Oh. Sorry. Guess I got carried away with the whole 'You punishing me for something.' Why're you so angry at me, again?” Victor grinned. “Is it for taking too long with the press? I—”

“It's not that.” Now Yuri felt embarrassed. Almost shy. His shoulders scrunched up as he lowered his head. “I just—I guess I felt a little awkward with you being so far ahead of me again. I felt like an amateur next to you.”

Victor reached with his free hand, cupping Yuri's jaw. “Oh, Yuri.” His thumb ran own the scale of Yuri's cheekbones, and, at once, Yuri's pulse quickened. “You know, you're a world record holder. Way better than me. Seeing you perform only pushed me further than I've ever gone. You and I are neck-in-neck here. You're not looking up to me. You're looking at someone in the same playing field.”

Something like a rebuttal rose in Yuri's throat, to tell Victor he was talking nonsense.

But he shoved that voice down with all his strength. He instead untied the tie around Victor's wrist, letting it slip into a pile at the head of the bed.

Victor, smiling, started to rise—

Only for Yuri to shove him back against the bed with both hands, pinning him down. “Where're you going? You came. But I don't remember being satisfied. I just needed you to use both hands.” Yuri shoved Victor (gently) off the bed. He went on all fours, feeling the phantom warmth from Victor's body on the covers. “Now go get lube and go in.”

Victor grinned. “Greedy piggy. You'll just have to wait for me to get good and ready—but don't worry. Just don't blame me if you're too sore to skate tomorrow.”


	2. Before the Grand Prix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night before the Grand Prix, Yuri has a moment of anxiety...and Victor might be too little, too late to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came back to this older fic, and figured there were a few more chapters to tell here. As this is all additional material, expect it to be light, fluffy, and nothing too intense.
> 
> This might be the darkest it gets. Just anything to hold me over until the new Ice Adolescence information comes out. Or Season 2.

This wasn't the first time Yuri sat staring out a window the night before the Grand Prix. However, last time, it had only been what he thought was his final match. Last time, the golden band around his finger had been a recent addition, not a welcomed reminder of the year prior where he remembered his worth.

A token of love then. Now, a permanent fixture. One that made him smile when he looked on it.

And a reminder of his competition.

He and Victor both had qualified for the Grand Prix. The short form competition would take place tomorrow, then the day after, they'd do the long form performance. Last year, Yuri had broken a world record. That was supposed to be it for him, too. His final performance.

He was already getting old, but Victor—it seemed like he never aged. Every time he got on the ice, he looked as beautiful and graceful as he had when Yuri first saw him as a kid. It was crazy to think this same goofy idiot woke up with him every morning.

That this goof made everyone around him seem lighter, almost.

Victor was out that night with Chris, talking and discussing something. Perhaps talking about Yuri. Even Chris seemed happy to see Victor back. Even Yurio, who had also qualified and seemed determined to beat Yuri and Victor tomorrow.

Yurio had been in rare form earlier today during an elevator ride to their rooms. Otabek stood in the corner, carrying Yurio's leapard print luggage while the little shorty talked, mostly to Victor. “Beat your stupid record last year. This year? Please. You and the piggy are too old and fat to win this year.”

Neither statement was necessarily true, but Victor, dramatic as always, laughed and just said, “Yuri, remind me to bring the walker out for me when I skate. I don't want my old knees to give out on me.”

“Oh, sure, but it'll be kinda hard waddling over there. Being so fat and all.”

“You two are disgusting.” Yurio turned around in a huff, but he couldn't hide the hint of a smirk tracing its way on his face.

Though that said once the couple did return to their room, Yuri spotted Victor checking out his hairline in the mirror, all while Yuri adjusted the waistband of his pants. “You don't think it's noticeable, right?” Yuri had pinched about an inch of chub off his hips.

“Oh, your body is just preparing for the off-season.” Victor smiled a little. He drew up to Yuri, and wrapped both hands around Yuri's rear end. The sensation of his long fingers inching nearer to his sensitive bits made Yuri blush a little. “I wouldn't worry much. If anything, I'm looking forward to keeping my hands arm against your soft warm tummy once we win the gold this year.”

Yuri pressed his hands along Victor's chest, but didn't push away. He liked this feeling. Being held. Being tight.

With Chris gone right now, Yuri remembered the feeling of Victor's arms around him. Of the comforting warmth of his lover. In those arms, Yuri felt at ease. Protected. Safe. Being alone left Yuri feeling vulnerable and even a little nervous, but any anxious thoughts couldn't bother him while in those arms.

But alone? Well. Alone he had nothing BUT anxious thoughts there.

So Yuri kept checking his phone, worried to send a third text to Victor to see if he was okay, but also feeling very nervous. Last time they faced on the ice, Victor was way, WAY better than Yuri. Sure, he managed to punish him in the bedroom—and have some incredible sex in the process—but he didn't feel confident at all today.

If anything, he felt…

What if Yuri won? Would Victor care? What if he didn't care? What if he cared too much? Was one option better than the other?

But if Victor won...that might be it. Yuri might never win a competition. He might never get the gold.

But worse—what if Yurio somehow beat both of them, knocking Yuri down to third place?

The thought of it heave Yuri to his feet and led him to the kitchen. They had ordered some food before, but had some in the fridge for lunch later. And Yuri...he couldn't stand having nothing to occupy his mind. He needed to do something.

So he took the leftovers out of the fridge—his mom's pork cutlet bowl, kept preserve for him for later—and just ate.

At first, just a little. He couldn't stress eat before another Grand Prix. This was just a snack. Just a snack.

But then his chopsticks scraped against the bottom of the bowl, and found himself taking out another one for himself. He didn't even taste the food really. He just consumed it, feeling it fill up his belly until it felt almost painfully full.

Yet his hand went for a third bowl—

He stopped himself there, heaving himself away from the bowl and dropping down on his bed, jeans unbuttoned as he rubbed his overstuffed middle.

In all fairness, he had eaten way, way, WAY more before. He put away five bowls once after his loss before. But that didn't change the fact he felt a true and deep shame in himself. He couldn't eat like that before a big match. He couldn't face Victor looking like such an idiot, especially after he spent all last season getting back into shape for this.

He rolled over and shoved his face into a pillow, laying there...until the door opened.

Immediate laughter. Someone shuffled in, giggling like a goof. “Yuuuuuuuuri, you don't think I'm that old, do you?” Victor landed in a heap beside Yuri. Thank God they pushed the beds together or else Yuri wouldn't be able to take his hands in his, and squeeze. “Chris kept calling me an old silver fox. You think that? Am I a silver fox?”

Yuri groaned, glancing over at his fiance, and mumbling. “You know I think you're sexy.”

Victor, smiling as only he could, laughed and pressed a finger against Yuri's lips. “Not a denial. Nooooot a denial. Silver foxes are sexy. Chris said so.”

“How much did you drink?”

“Not as much as when you seduced me.”

Yuri still had no memory of his pole-dancing. He tried to pull off even a fraction of his “moves” while sober, and only succeeded in waking his sister across the face with a swinging kick when she walked in on him to ask a question.

Victor grinned, and started ruffling Yuri's hair. “You're—urp—still such a cute. You know that? You're a cute.” He wrapped his arms around Yuri, pulling him tightly against him. Yuri squirmed, anxious to feel the warmth of his love's arms again—

But then Victor stopped, ran his hands down the course of Yuri's body, and mumbled, “Did you stress eat?”

He blushed. “Th-that obvious?”

“No, but I happen to know every contour of your body, so I'd notice even if no one else would.” Victor's speech slurred a little less as he came close to Yuri, and pulled him into a hug. The scent of old beer and faint cologne flooded Yuri's nostrils as his head was pressed against his lover's solid breast. “Nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“About tomorrow?”

He nodded.

“Don't be. You already won in my book. You're here. We're here.”

“Yeah, but what if one of us wins and we—”

“Nononono,” Victor's word slurred together. The drink was overtaking him. “Can't think that way. Can't think that way.” Victor's hands pressed up against Yuri's arms. Fingers probed, leaving an electric feeling in his body. He wanted Victor. CRAVED him. NEEDED him.

Yuri spread a leg under Victor's, prying it back a little as he pressed closer, his member brushing against Victor's. He could feel life rise between Victor's legs, but not enough. “You know there are ways to relieve stress before a match?”

“Can we maybe not tonight?” Victor asked.

“What?”

Victor met Yuri's gaze, and smirked. “That's your reward. Beat me, and you'll get a pounding and all the pork cutlets you can eat, okay?”

Yuri met Victor's gaze as his lover smiled, then slumped into the pillow. A second later, he was snoring.

Yuri sighed, disentangled himself, and went to the bathroom. He had to do something, or else he'd go crazy. He wouldn't want to do this while near Victor, of course, seeing as how he probably wouldn't want anything pervy to go on. Thankfully, Yuri had a shower.

He let the water run as he stripped down, got inside, and, as he clasped his erect member, imagined that the water pouring over him was Victor, curling his arms around his, fingers clasped between his. The shower head's warmth became his breath on the back of Yuri's neck, as hot love drizzled down his head to his toes—

It didn't take long. 

Yuri had to wipe the shower clean before emerging, staring at himself in the mirror. He had stared at his reflection when he was fat, and, naturally, saw, with his hair soaked down to his scalp drawn from his eyes, the same look of Eros he had carried out with him onto the ice. 

Only now his belly bulged just a little from a good meal. He wondered, self-consciously, if anyone would notice it in his tight outfits.

And, if they did, would they fall asleep instead of wanting to hold him, too?


End file.
